See world, from KH of White Bear Lake: "Even the busiest of God's creatures needs to rest."

Our theater of seasons , Grandma J. of Grant: Ã¢â‚¬Å“One of the reasons I love living in Minnesota (other than its people Ã¢â‚¬â€ who are pretty neat, in my estimation) is our change of seasons. I am never bored. Well Ã¢â‚¬Â¦ perhaps in March, when we still have winter, I might be a little tired of it all. But this tree in our back yard let me know, in no uncertain terms, the reason I love it here! Isn't nature grand?!Ã¢â‚¬?

Our theater of seasons GRANDMA FROG: Ã¢â‚¬Å“I had a doctor's appointment recently at the Allina clinic in Eagan. One of the entries to the clinic is on the south side of the building, with a sort of hidden driveway. When I turned onto the driveway, this is what I saw. I was awestruck.Ã¢â‚¬?

Reports The Old Woodchopper of Eagan: “I was listening to the radio in the car the other day while running some errands.

“A commercial aired from a Big Box store noting that they were having a sale on light bulbs.

“They emphasized that these light bulbs were guaranteed to last for 22 years.

“My only wonder is if I will be around 22 years from now to change the bulbs when they burn out.

“I better put it in my will, to ensure the kids will know that the bulbs will need to be changed 22 years from now.”

Know thyself!

Al B of Hartland: “I watched a dog watch a car drive by. I thought to myself that it didn’t take much to amuse a dog.

“Then I realized I was watching a dog watch a car drive by.”

Life as we know it

Twitty of Como: “Subject: Apropos of absolutely nothing.

“On the same day my friendly Amazon sent me a coupon for reduced-rate speed-reading classes, I did the math and learned I’m still 130 wins away from a 61 percent success rate in Freecell. I did last Sunday’s New York Times Crossword in three days. The only thing left for my life to be complete is an offer for life insurance from AARP … (sigh).”

Our homes, ourselves

Kathy S. of St. Paul: “In 1949, my parents bought their first and only house, because they couldn’t fit another crib in their half of a Quonset hut. The house had four bedrooms, two bathrooms and a detached two-car garage — luxury, to folks who came of age in the Great Depression.

“They raised their kids there, packed the house with family parties and stayed to welcome two more generations — though Mom was always embarrassed when the grandkids raced upstairs to check out the attic, full of stuff. None of the newer houses in the family had real attics — let alone a family death mask, our Mom’s electric organ that played sound effects, or a great-grandpa’s Knights of Columbus uniform (complete with sword).

“But now Mom is gone, and Dad is in a ‘home,’ soon to join her. It is time for our 64-year-old Home Place to become part of someone else’s future.

“We have it almost emptied. The letter jackets and furniture are gone, and the last kitchen stuff is going to ARC. No one seems to want an electric organ needing some transistors, so it might go in the Dumpster. Dad couldn’t let it go when I found a place for it a few years ago, so it might be the last thing to leave.

“While watching persnickety house hunters on HGTV, I visualize how they would see this house. It has hardwood floors but small closets. It wasn’t built to be ‘open plan,’ but it does have a door to close off the hallway to the two ground-floor bedrooms — perfect for folks who wanted babies to stay asleep.

“And don’t get me started on what young buyers would say about the dark walnut paneling in the main room in the basement. They didn’t see Dad spend the winter of 1963-64 putting it up with agonizing slowness, because he never was and never would be a ‘handy’ sort of guy.

“Our Home Place will remain in our hearts, as it becomes again ‘just’ a house. It is time for renewal — for other people to bring their lives and stories to it.

“But first, I hope we can take the young’uns of our clan to see the empty house, and hear about their family history. And toast what was and will be with root beer floats like the ones that their great/grandpa always made for them when they came to visit.

“So long, old friend, it’s been good to know you!”

Shirts happen

Red’s Offspring, north of St. Paul: “Another catalog, another shirt:

” ‘DON’T GIVE UP …

” ‘MOSES WAS ONCE A

” ‘BASKET CASE.’ ”

Out of the mouths of babes

Happy Mother of Six: “It was my granddaughter’s turn for show-and-tell. When my daughter asked her what she was bringing, she answered: ‘Myself.’ She then paused and said: ‘My voice, too!’ She sang to her class. Now, that’s confidence for a first-grader!”

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